


Midnight Confessions

by kallistob, MercurialTenacity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, I think that's it - Freeform, Lots of kissing, M/M, Magic Rituals, Magical Creatures, Newt topping from the bottom, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sexual Discovery, also tied up Graves, handjob, hmmm, incubus Newt, overwhelmed Graves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 02:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11026524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/pseuds/kallistob, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Graves summons an incubus to keep him company on a restless night, as you do.





	Midnight Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Kallistob : I sent MT a prompt and we just decided to write it bc it was neat ?? Enjoy <3  
> MercurialTenacity: This has been a wild ride and I loved every minute of it <3 Hope you all enjoy!

 

-

Graves is restless.  He’s irritable, he snaps at his coworkers, and he knows from the way Seraphina looks at him that she can’t decide whether to demand an explanation or ask if he’s okay.  He tells himself it’s just stress, Seraphina always says he overworks himself, and maybe in this case she’s actually right.  It’s been a long time since he’s taken any time for himself.  

It’s when he snaps at the Canadian liaison for Cooperative North American Security, saying that he doesn’t care how many yetis have been spotted in the Northern Territories, that’s not his department and is wholly irrelevant to the meeting at hand, that Seraphina finally pulls him aside.

“You need a break,” she tells him, sipping at her coffee while Graves’ foot taps relentlessly on the floor of her office in a regular, nervous motion.

“I’m fine,” Graves says immediately. “Just tired.”

“Exactly. Take a few days off.”

“To do what?” Graves scoffs. “The department needs me, you need me. Grindelwald is still at large - and so are yetis, apparently.”

“Which is why we need you at your best, Percival.” She fixes him with a sharp look and sighs. “Frankly I don’t care what the Canadians do about their yeti problem, but we need their cooperation on other matters - Grindelwald included. And you know that.”

“One day. That's all.” Graves says shortly after a minute of silence, knowing Seraphina won’t let him go until he is coerced into giving in. Might as well negotiate.

“Five.”

“What?! That’s way too much!” Graves says, horrified at the prospect of finding himself alone in his house with _nothing_ to do for nearly a week.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“Two, then,” she agrees smoothly. “Try to do something relaxing. Read a book, take a walk, go to a bar, that sort of thing. And most of all - get some sleep. You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” he says dryly.

She waves a hand at him, in a way that would look dismissive to someone who didn’t know her better.  “Go.  And don’t let me see you tomorrow.”

Graves shakes his head as he gets up and walks to the door. “If I burn my house down out of boredom, it will be your fault.”

“Duly noted.  Good night, Percival.”

“Good night, Madam President.”

-

Graves apparates directly in front of the grand entrance to his house. He holds up a hand to dismantle the security wards one by one, allowing him to slip inside before weaving them back in around the door. He feels their magic like a blanket over the house, and nods in satisfaction.

Today, however, he can’t help but feel a bit constrained by them.  He has no idea what he’s going to do, exiled from the office as he is. He takes off his coat, divests himself off his tie, opens the first two buttons of his shirt and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.

He walks into his living room, sighing as he sees the tumbler and bottle of whisky on the table. The fire is roaring in the fireplace, his armchair perfectly positioned in front of it - courtesy of his old house elf.

Graves pours himself a glass and takes a first long sip. If he’s going to make it through the next couple of days, he’s going to need a drink.  The alcohol burns and he grimaces slightly, but it feels good. He takes off his shoes and summons his slippers as he makes his way to the armchair, settling down and sinking into the softness of the pillows.

He considers taking the time to read up on the new security methods coming out of Europe, but he thinks with a twinge of guilt that Seraphina had certainly not intended for him to use his time to catch up on work he doesn’t even technically need to do.  He can’t imagine her reaction if she ever found out.  And he has a long few days to get through.  No, perhaps he’ll save those articles for later on, when he gets desperate for something to occupy him.  That way he can at least tell Seraphina he _tried_.

What is there to do? It’s as though he’s suddenly forgotten every hobby he’s ever had. What did he used to do? He can't very well go out in the middle of the night. Unless it's to a bar, as Seraphina suggested, but picking someone up frankly demands too much work.

Read, then? The Graves family library does have quite an extensive collection of books, most of them he hasn’t touched. Surely Graves can find one that isn't work related.

He stands and walks into the adjoining room, scanning the tall shelves which line the walls.  He recalls there being some logic to how the books are organized, but at the moment it escapes him.  He finds he doesn’t mind scanning through the titles though - half of these books he didn’t realize he owned, and some of the titles are frankly bizarre.

 _Ghosts, Ghouls, and Other Creatures In Your Ceiling_ has somehow made its way alongside _History of the Twelve Aurors_ and _Rules of Duel._ On one shelf he finds a well used copy of _Edward Babbage’s Gardening Tricks,_ and he spends an amused moment wondering who in his family enjoyed it so thoroughly.  

One section seems to be dedicated to magical creatures, containing such titles as _The Dangers of A Full Moon,_ sitting next to _Animagus Forms and Their Meanings_ . Further down, Graves sees _Incubi Summoning: A Guide To Your Desires_ and raises an eyebrow. Interest piqued, he grabs the little black book, staring at the faded gold lettering on the cover. The back cover is blank. Graves idly flips through the pages, catching a few words here and there.

_“... ritual at midnight…binding magical contract... ”_

_“... reflection of your deepest desires…dangerous… ”_

_“... always satisfied…a deeply fulfilling experience… ”_

He flips the book closed and replaces it on the shelf, shaking his head.  There’s a book for everything. In the end he settles for something safe, a novel, and goes back to the living room to read it. Missy, his house elf, brings him dinner at nine sharp, and Graves eats it in silence.

The novel catches his attention but it’s nothing thrilling, and before long the late hour combined with the warmth of the fire convinces Graves it’s time to go to bed.  He summons Missy to clear things away, and starts to settle himself down for the night.  When he slides under the warm, heavy blankets of his bed he’s prepared for a night of rest.

For all of fifteen minutes, until he discovers he is distinctly not tired.  He opens his eyes, staring out across his bedroom.  As much as he's loath to admit it, he has been tired recently.  Exhausted even, if he's fully honest with himself.  So why can't he sleep?  He closes his eyes again and rolls over, trying to bury himself in the darkness of the pillows.  It doesn't help.

He tosses and turns, feeling as though the more determined he is to sleep the more it eludes him.  He gives it an honest effort, he does, but eventually it gets the best of him.

He sits up in bed, sliding his slippers back on, and finds his way down to the library.  He can at least read until he grows tired again - even falling asleep in one of the library armchairs wouldn't be so bad if that’s what it takes.

But God, he can't imagine spending so much time alone in the coming days.  Whenever he socializes with his colleagues the conversation inevitably turns to work, and he knows that would get back to Seraphina.  He doesn't exactly have the kind of relationship where he can invite them out for a casual dinner, either.  He doesn’t socialize much but he enjoys the camaraderie of the work place, and going without that is a dim prospect.  Unless…

Unless he didn't have to spend the time alone.  Graves stands at the entrance to the library, not quite willing to believe he would consider it.  He tries to recount in his head where he found the book, the library seeming somehow different in the dark.  It takes him a few minutes, but he locates it.  There - two shelves below _Animagus Forms and Their Meanings._

Graves pulls _Incubi Summoning: A Guide To Your Desires_ from the shelf.

This is ridiculous.  This is a bad idea.

But if he could have someone to spend his evening with… How long has it been since he indulged himself in that kind of pleasure?

Graves opens the book, skimming through the introduction quickly before flipping back to the table of contents.  The book promises that the incubus will be everything the caster ever wanted. The perfect picture of Graves’ desires. He wonders what they'll look like. A woman, he hopes, petite and cute with curves, waves of long red hair, freckles maybe, and bright blue eyes. His secretary looks a bit like that. Graves has always refrained from doing anything inappropriate, but it doesn't mean he hasn't fantasized about it. And now… well.  What would be the harm?

The prospect of what could happen makes a pleasant warmth settle low in his belly, and Graves swallows. He finds what he’s looking for in the last chapter - how to perform the ritual.

From what he can tell it's not all that dangerous.  The book says incubi feed off sexual energy, and coupling with one once tends to leave the summoner with a comfortable tiredness.  Well, Graves can't sleep anyway.  It's repeated engagement that makes things start to get risky, and he can't imagine it going that far.  He doesn't have that many days off.

The ritual is supposed to be performed at midnight, and he quickly checks the clock - half past eleven.  He's not sure whether that's good timing or terribly unfortunate.  Really, he doesn't know how much of a difference it makes.  Spells that say that sort of thing tend to be going for a touch of the dramatic, but he'll do it just to be safe.  The incantation is simple - simpler than he expected.  He practices saying it a few times wandlessly to get a feel for the pronunciation before he flips to the next page to look at the wandwork.

By the time he's comfortable with it and has leafed through a few other pages which seem relevant there are only a couple minutes left before the hour.

He has a moment of hesitation as he raises his wand.   _Is he really going to do this?_

Distantly, he hears the clock chime. His mouth forms the words before he realizes, dutifully repeating the spell while flicking his wand in the distinctive circular motion illustrated in the book, and he watches as a thin gold mist issues from the tip.

It begins to coalesce in front of him, swirling slowly at first and then faster, faster, bright and shining in the middle of the room until with a crack, it dissipates.

The rapidly vanishing mist reveals pale skin, curly red hair, and freckles absolutely _everywhere_ -

On a man.

_Excuse me?_

Graves stands frozen in place, staring as the man stands up from where he was curled up on the floor. He is naked, skin soft and unblemished save for constellations of freckles mapped out across him and the golden markings along his inner thighs and collarbone.

He has a naked man in his library.

The incubus yawns, revealing a perfect row of white teeth with pointy canines before his gaze focuses on Graves.

“Hello,” the incubus says, a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ll be your companion for the night. What is your name?”

Graves tries desperately to keep his eyes on the man’s face. “Why are you…?” He waves his hand in a vague gesture towards the man’s naked form. The incubus raises an eyebrow.

“Because you summoned me to please you.”

“No, I mean,” Graves licks his lips. “Why a _man_?”

The incubus sighs. “Because you want a man.”

“But I don’t -”

“You do,” the incubus says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The magic doesn’t lie.”

“But clearly -”

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” the incubus says, licking his lips, “I am starving.”

The creature smiles and steps forward. Graves feels the atmosphere in the room shift to something hotter, stifling, and he steps back until he bumps into the shelves. In the blink of an eye the incubus is pressed against him, inhaling Graves’ scent sharply as Graves stays paralyzed.

“Lots of sexual frustration,” the incubus says, satisfied. “I’m going to enjoy you.”

“I - what - _uh -_ ” Graves gasps as he feels the man’s hands settle on his chest. Warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, the man’s hands massaging him in a deep, circular motions and Graves feels his thoughts stutter to a halt. The incubus presses closer, pulling himself flush against Graves until their lips are a breath away.

“Newt. That is my name,” the incubus breathes in his mouth. Graves’ hands are gripping the edge of the shelf behind him, trying to anchor himself as the incubus’ pheromones fill the room and cloud his mind.

“Stop,” he manages. “I don’t want - I’m not -”

“This,” Newt grips Graves’ hard cock through his pants, and Graves lets out a surprised cry, “Seems to disagree with you.”

“This is your fault,” Graves manages, trying to glare at Newt - green, mischievous eyes stare back, and Graves just barely refrains from letting out a whimper. He’s in trouble. “You - You’re doing something -”

“Hush.” Newt places his finger on Graves’ lips, and Graves doesn’t know why he snaps his mouth shut. He doesn’t know whether he wants to bite Newt or suckle on his finger. No one shushes _him_. “Let go for once, Percival. You deserve it.”

Graves’ last reasonable thought is that he has no idea how he’s going to answer Seraphina when she asks about his time off, and then Newt is kissing him. Softly, wetly, warmly, and Graves parts his own lips in surprise. Newt smiles against him and takes Graves’ lower lip between his teeth, biting gently before suckling on the sensitive skin. Graves closes his eyes. His hands tremble with the effort of not reaching out to Newt even as he lets out a soft moan.

Newt keeps kissing his mouth, slow and deep before shifting his attention to Graves’ neck. It’s nice, it’s so nice, Newt is the perfect height to press kisses all over Graves’ skin without effort and Graves lets his head fall back despite himself. His hands find their way to Newt’s hips and Graves lets them rest here, rubbing his thumbs over Newt’s skin.

He feels a hand travel down his chest, the tingle of magic as Newt pops open the buttons of Graves’ shirt one at a time, and Graves doesn’t realize that’s happening until the cold air of the room hits his skin. He shivers, and Newt pulls away from him. Graves follows his gaze down to his own erect nipples, and he barely has the time to croak out a, “What,” before Newt pinches one sensitive nub between his index finger and thumb and _twists_ it.

Graves lets out a strangled sound, the combination of pain and pleasure sending a stab of lust straight to his cock and Newt doesn’t give him time to recover. He repeats the motions on both nipples, pinching, tugging, and caressing until Graves is panting in his arms, unable to focus on anything but Newt.  He strokes over Graves’ chest, touches sinking in deep, sending a warmth through his chest that is unlike anything he’s felt before.  He never thought he could get so much pleasure from being touched like this.

Newt smirks at him and Graves thinks about how unfair this is, how Newt seems to know exactly what to do to please him in ways no one has ever done before and then Newt is pressing open mouthed kisses again on his neck and over his collarbone, down his chest. Graves doesn’t understand what’s happening, he can’t think and then Newt latches onto a nipple and sucks and _oh, oh_ -

Graves moans, the sound rising up from his throat, the feel of Newt’s mouth like nothing he’s ever imagined. He arches his back, trying to press into Newt’s mouth and Newt rises up instead. Graves whimpers, desperate for more, and he presses forward clumsily, trying to chase the sensation.

“Bed?” Newt murmurs and Graves can only nod, overwhelmed.

He lets himself be guided, and he doesn’t know how Newt knows where the bedroom is but he’s past thinking. Each time he tries to grasp why this is wrong the thoughts slip away from him, like water through a sieve and he can only grip Newt’s hand tighter and lets himself be pushed on the bed.

Newt crawls over him, gloriously naked, and Graves waves a shaking hand down his own body to vanish his shirt, pants and underwear. Newt hums in satisfaction and Graves wordlessly beckons him closer, wrapping his arms around Newt’s back and trying to remember what breathing is through the waves of sensations.   

The weight of Newt above him, the warmth of him, the taste of him as he kisses Graves, it’s perfect.  He runs his hands down the planes of Newt’s back, feeling him shiver under his touch. Newt rocks forward, bringing their cocks together and Graves’ mouth falls open at the sheer pleasure, his hand slipping from Newt’s hair where he was gripping it tightly. Newt wraps a hand around them both and starts dragging his fingers up and down and Graves quivers, his hands twisting in the sheets, arching into Newt’s touch. This is the nicest thing he’s felt in months and he can’t get enough of it.

“More,” he gasps, “More, _yes_ -” and Newt indulges him, going faster until Graves is close to the edge, and chokes out for him to stop.

“Stop?” Newt says, curious, but he slows down. “Why?”

“I want to taste you,” Graves manages, voice rough, and he gets the pleasure of seeing Newt’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. Clearly the incubus wasn’t expecting that.

Graves rolls them over until he is the one on top, hands and knees on either sides of Newt’s body, the haze in his head clearing a little and allowing him to feel a bit more in control. Newt is all pale skin, long limbs and freckles beneath him and Graves doesn’t know where to look. Newt emits a little whine of frustration and Graves’ eyes follow an invisible line from his lips to his nipples, to the cherry red of his cock and down to the seam of Newt’s ass.

Newt follows his gaze and smiles at him. Graves sees the man’s hands reach for his own ass cheeks and his heart stops beating when Newt parts them for him, revealing his little pink hole and Graves’ face burns with embarrassment and arousal.

Newt clenches his hole and Graves sees something pour out of him, like a woman’s wetness, dripping onto the red silk sheets until it forms a little puddle under him.

“You’re _wet_ ,” Graves says, fascinated, and Newt hums. One of his fingers circle his own hole and Graves sees the digit disappear inside Newt up to the knuckle before Newt takes it out. It is glistening. Newt repeats the process, starting to finger himself open for Graves and throwing his head back as he does so.

“Yes,” he pants. “Self lubrication is - _ah -_ one of the many particularities of our species. It makes everything - much easier.”

“Let me,” Graves says, gentle, grabbing Newt’s wrist to stop him. “Keep yourself open for me.”

Newt does, shivering in anticipation, pulling his ass cheeks apart.

Graves leans down, kissing Newt’s inner thighs, then his balls, sensing rather than seeing how Newt’s hole keeps clenching reflexively, waiting to be filled. He blows gently on the little pink flesh, hearing Newt moan above him, and then he comes closer and tentatively licks Newt’s hole, getting his first taste of incubus slick.

It is sweet, sweeter than any woman’s cunt he’s had. Graves gives a few more licks before diving in properly, his hands wrapping themselves around Newt’s legs and settling on his stomach to keep him in place. More slick pours out of Newt’s hole as Graves licks and sucks and enters Newt with his tongue, and Newt cries out desperately, body twisting, trying to get away from the pleasure because it’s too much and asking for more because it’s so _good_.

“Percival,” Newt sobs, “Stop, I can’t -”

Graves doesn’t listen, drunk on the taste of Newt’s slick and scent and keeps fucking the incubus with his tongue, ignoring his own aches until Newt is begging incoherently.

 _“I’m going to -_ _Stop, stop, please stop oh -_ ”

Newt tangles his fingers in Graves’ hair and pulls him up, breathing heavily. Graves shakes his head, in a daze, mouth and chin wet with slick and eyes unfocused.

“Oh, darling,” Newt says, still breathless himself. “Take a deep breath, that’s it.”

Graves obeys automatically, repeating the process until his heartbeat has calmed down.

“I can’t come before you,” Newt murmurs. “No matter how skilled you are. What kind of incubus would I be?”

Graves whines. He has no idea what Newt is talking about, he just wants _more_.

“I know, I know. I got you.”

Newt waves his hand in a complex, circular motion, and Graves blinks. When he opens his eyes he is tied to the headboard, arms pulled up above his head and he makes a little lost noise.

“Oh dear,” he hears Newt say, and turns his head. The incubus is sitting besides Graves on the bed, looking worried. “I never should have let you taste me like that for so long.”

Graves whines, trying to reach out for him, pulling against his bonds. That doesn’t seem right at all, he just wants more, he wants _Newt_ , he wants to bury his head between Newt’s thighs and taste more of his sweetness, he tastes so _good._  Graves thinks he could stay that way forever and he wouldn’t mind.

He lets his mouth fall open, lips still shining with Newt’s slick, wordlessly begging. Newt shakes his head before moving and straddling Graves’ hips, taking his cock in hand. “I need to take care of you.”

The moment Newt touches his cock his own needs come flooding back.  He aches with it, he _needs_ , and Graves nods, dizzy.  Yes, yes that sounds nice, and the pressure against his cock feels so good. Graves is burning with desire, he’s never felt like that before, he can’t compare this to any sexual experience he’s had with a human being.   

Newt plays with Graves’ cock a little, light touches around the head before he lifts his ass up, almost regretfully. Graves looks at him in confusion, tilting his head, and Newt smiles as he slowly sinks down on Graves’ cock.

Graves’ mind goes blank. He jerks against his bonds, the tightness and wetness of Newt around him is too much at once and it sends liquid pleasure running through him, invading his body and settling itself deep into his bones. Newt moves minutely and Graves throws his head back, utterly overwhelmed.

“You feel good,” Newt gasps out with difficulty. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Graves whines, helpless, because Newt feels so good too and he doesn’t want this to end. But he can feel the pleasure rising, the telltale first signs of orgasm in the tightening of his balls and the peculiar warmth nestling itself in his cock and he cries out as his orgasm crashes through him. Newt accompanies him, his voice breaking on Percival’s name. Graves feels a hand in his hair and forces himself to open his eyes even as his orgasm continues, the longest he’s ever had, he can feel his entire body trembling,  and meets Newt’s eyes. They’re gold and bright, and Newt murmurs a _Thank you_ and _I’m sorry_ before he kisses Percival.

Then the world fades around him.  

-

Newt watches as Percival’s eyes flutter closed and the other man sinks into the sheets, body limp, and he smiles softly. Percival is a gorgeous man, and Newt really did enjoy their time together. So many wizards act entitled to taking what they want, but Percival made sure Newt was enjoying it too.

Sighing, Newt forces himself to leave the wizard, Graves’ softening cock slipping from Newt’s hole as he rises, standing and stepping down to the floor of Graves’ bedroom. Newt concentrates until he feels a familiar tingling at his shoulderblades and lets his wings stretch out, filling the room. They’re milky white, almost translucent, a soft, shimmering light in the darkness.

Newt has to go. He knows that. But…

He looks back at Percival sleeping peacefully on his bed, and makes a decision. He pulls one of his wings over to him, delicately, and takes a single feather out of it. If Graves wants to see him again, all he needs to do is touch the feather while thinking of Newt, and Newt will know.

Satisfied and aware that his time has run out, Newt disappears in a flutter of wings.

-

 Graves wakes up to the delicious smell of toast and coffee and cracks one eye open. He’s confronted with Missy’s large eyes peering into his, and if he had the energy he would have jumped.

“Morning,” he mumbles, feeling better than he has in years.

“Sir!” Missy squeaks in happiness. “You’re awake!”

“It appears so,” Graves says, rubbing at his eyes. He stills feel tired, but then Newt _did_ tire him out... Graves flushes bright red at the thought and clears his throat.

“You wasn’t yesterday, sir,” Missy says disapprovingly. “You wouldn’t wake up. You gave Missy quite a fright.”

“I wasn’t yesterday?” Graves repeats, still feeling sleepy. “What day is it?”

“Thursday, sir.”

“Thursd -”

But - Seraphina told him to leave on Tuesday evening. Which means that -

“You was asleep for two days, sir, after the incubus’ visit.”

“You know about him?” Graves says, horrified.

“Of course Missy does, sir,” Missy says, as if offended. “Another magical creature in my house, I feel it, Mr. Graves, sir. And if I hadn’t, well - he said hello and asked if Missy was treated well.”

“He did?” Graves says, more and more confused.

“Yes, sir. I told him I had nothing to complain about, no sir.”

“Well, that’s - thank you, Missy,” Graves says.

Missy beams at him, and Graves tentatively smiles back. “Lunch will be ready in a few minutes, sir.”

“Thank you,” Graves repeats. “Wait, lunch? What time is it?”

“Three o’clock, sir.”

“Mercy Lewis,” Graves says. “It’s no wonder I feel well rested.”

Missy disappears with a pop and Graves lays back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling.

He let an incubus into his home.

He had sex with a man.

He slept for two days.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he settles for getting up and going through the routine of his morning ablutions in spite of the fact that it’s the middle of the afternoon. It’s not like anyone will know.

The afternoon passes quickly. Graves writes a letter to his parents, peers through the newspaper, finishes Tuesday’s novel and goes to bed early, exhausted despite how long he already slept.

When he pulls back the covers a glint of something catches his eye, almost translucent against the sheets.  It’s… a feather?  How did something like that find its way into his bed?  He picks it up, curious, and instantly feels a heady warmth surge through him, exactly reminiscent of… Newt.

Graves smiles.  Perhaps it’s naive to think an incubus would enjoy his time with him that much, but…

The words gasped two nights ago float back through his mind.

_“I don’t want to leave you.”_

Something tells him that perhaps he may see Newt again after all.

He wakes the next morning feeling a bit better already, and readies himself for work with an energy he hasn’t felt in a long time. People greet him in the hallway and for once, Graves returns their nods, leaving excited whispers in his wake.

He knocks on Seraphina’s door and feels the wards slipping, allowing him in. The president raises her head from the papers she was peering at and smiles at him.

“Percival,” she says warmly. “You look better. I trust you enjoyed your days of rest?”

“Indeed,” Graves says, taking place in the guest chair in front of her oak desk. “Thank you, Seraphina.”

“Someone has to take care of you since you won’t do it yourself,” she hums, looking back at her papers. Graves follows her gaze curiously.

“Anything new while I was away?”

“Well,” Seraphina says, “The good news is that the Canadians solved their yeti problem and their liaison doesn’t hold your rudeness against you.”

“Cheers,” Graves murmurs.

“And the bad news is, we still have absolutely no idea where Grindelwald is. He could be you, for all I know.”

“I’d die before I’d let that happen,” Graves says, appalled. “That’s a terrifying thought, Seraphina, Jesus. I’m going to have nightmares.”

“Sorry,” she says, sheepish.

“I’ll up the security level,” Graves says, deep in thoughts. “That _is_ truly terrifying. Alright. What’s today’s agenda?”

Seraphina steeples her fingers under her chin and drills him through what meetings they have to get to and what matters need to be dealt with, and the morning passes in a blur.

-

It’s the middle of the afternoon when he is sipping at his cup of coffee amongst his Aurors as they take a break and Graves sees O’Conell bend over to grab a piece of paper, thinking absently that his ass looks great, that he pauses.

He never thought that before. Or maybe he never allowed himself to think that before. Well. It looks like his encounter with Newt awoke a few things in him worth exploring.

Later, during training, Graves takes great care to compliment O’Conell on his moves and wand work, and the man blushes so fiercely Graves fears he might have overdone it.

But later, when O’Conell knocks on the door to his office and hesitantly asks Graves if he wants to grab coffee together, and when Graves smiles and accepts, he thinks that maybe summoning an incubus wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

 

The End.  

-

 

 

 


End file.
